


After the Dust Settles

by shewhowritestoomuch



Category: Ben-Hur (2016)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Description of Injuries, Don't worry, Everything ends up alright, F/M, Gen, Light Angst, No-one dies, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 06:04:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11480181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shewhowritestoomuch/pseuds/shewhowritestoomuch
Summary: Set after the events of the chariot race in Ben-Hur (2016). Judah is forced to reflect upon the benefits of mercy when it is revealed that Messala survived the chariot race.





	After the Dust Settles

Judah looked at the wounded form of Messala, his former friend, his almost brother. Even from the short distance by which they were held apart, he could not tell if his opponent was alive or dead. For the briefest of moments he reached with his hands outstretched, but then he was pulled away by the crowd. In the chaos of everything after the race it did not seem to do to dwell on a fallen Roman soldier, and the thoughts which did cross his mind were dark and unpleasant things.  


There had once been a boy, young and foolish, who believed in the betterment of the world through love, and for those beliefs, the world had destroyed him. A boy who could have remained blissfully ignorant of the cruelties of the world, had it not been for the unforgiving judgment of Messala. His five years in the galleys had made him raw, changed the way he looked at mankind, filled him with the need for retribution, and now all had settled and he was lost. He had his freedom, the ability to live his life out in comfort with his wife, his revenge against the one who had wronged him was complete. Surely the torment in his soul should have quieted, but still, after all that, conflict remained in his heart.  


Ilderim noticed the tension in his shoulders despite the celebrations around him, and approached.  


"You've won Judah."  


Judah turned ever so slightly to look at him.  


"I point it out because you act like a man condemned."  


"I'm sorry, Ilderim, it's just," he breathed heavily, "I thought a victory would bring me more peace."  
"Only time can bring that, though, maybe she can help." Ilderim said with a gesture to the front of the tent.  
Judah turned, to his delight Esther stood just outside of the festivities.  


"Excuse me."  


"Go, celebrate with your wife."  


Judah quickly extricated himself away from the party to stand before his Esther.  


"I was worried," she began "worried you were injured in the fall."  


"Scratches," he shrugged "I should have come to you first, but it was chaotic after the race and-"  


He was interrupted by a kiss. He declined to continue his sentence in order to deepen it.  
\------

By this time, Messala still hadn't left the circus. The doctor already knew that he was going to lose one leg, and feared the former tribune would lose his life too if he was moved. The soldiers around him thought him a pitiful sight; the worst of the blood and gore had been cleaned away, leaving only the broken man underneath. Long scratches marred his face and worse yet his right eye, leaving little doubt of him being left part blind if he survived the night. His hands had deep gashes imparted by the reigns which had done little to prevent his chariot from landing on him. But the worst thing, and of this there was no doubt, was his right leg.  


When Messala had been thrown, his chariot had come unhitched from the horses and as he had collided with the earth, it had also collided into his leg. It had only stayed there for a brief time, but it had provided enough of a weight for it to crush the bone of his lower leg. There was no saving the limb if the tribune wanted to live.  


Messala's will to live was in doubt.  


"Tribune, I must proceed with the surgery if you wish to live to see dawn," the doctor explained for at least the fifth time.  


Messala's responses consisted of whimpers and fervent refusals. Of his fevered and pained utterances, only a few words could be made out:  


"Judah! Mother! Tirza!"  


The doctor looked at one of the soldiers who had been assigned to watch over the tribune.  


"Find Judah Ben-Hur and ask him to attend the tribune."  


The soldier was relieved to leave the echoing screams of the man who had once been the undefeated champion of the roman empire.  
\-------

The soldier was less relieved to have a knife put to his throat by one of Ilderim's many companions.  


"State your purpose, soldier," he commanded.  


"Tribune Messala asks for Judah Ben-Hur to attend him."  


The young prince, seated with his wife beside Ilderim looked up at this.  


"He's alive?"  


"Barely. He begs for his brother to come to him."  


Judah looked down at this. Esther put a hand on his shoulder.  


"He ceased being my brother the day he condemned me to the galleys, and my mother and sister to a fate worse than death. If he wants comfort he will not find it in me."  


"Judah!" Esther pulled away slightly. She stood up, ignored the hand that tried to follow her. She approached the soldier.  


"Take me to him."  


"Esther!" Judah started to get up.  


"Even a dying dog deserves some comfort, let alone a dying man," she began to walk out of the tent. "I will tell you of his condition when I return in the morning."  


With that she left, and Judah's head fell to his hands.  


There was a deathly silence in the room which held Messala. It was punctuated only by the sound of his breathing. It was to this deathly silence which Esther entered the room. The doctor looked at her and gestured for her to approach.  


"You are not his brother."  


"Judah was unable to come, I am his sister in law," she looked at the prone form of the man who had committed so much wrong against her family. "Will he survive the night?"  


The doctor shrugged  


"His leg is already infected, if he is to have any hope we must remove it now."  


"Then why don't you?"  


"By his own orders, he will not consent to the operation until he sees his brother."  


Esther nodded, and walked towards her former enemy.  


"Messala."  


"Esther. Where is Judah?" he croaked out.  


"You are not the only one with wounds. Though his are less now than yours." She kneeled in front of him and looked him in the eye.  


"I'm going to die Esther. I can feel it, the cold running through my bones." He laughed shakily at this, reason appearing to escape him.  


"You are going to let the doctor operate and then you'll get well," she began to stroke the undamaged side of his face.  


"Judah hates me."  


"He is your brother, he could never hate you."  


"I should die for what I've done."  


"No," she said "if you are to meant to die, you will die whether the leg comes off or not. Dooming yourself leaves you without honour."  


Messala, in a moment of lucidity looked up at Esther, his gaze suddenly clear and alert. She gently took one of his hands in hers.  


"Will you stay with me?" He asked, voice small.  


She nodded.  


Messala tightened his grip on her hands and turned to the doctor.  


"Do it."  
\--------

Esther was no stranger to blood and violence, having seen much in the five years she had been left to fend for herself. But even for her, the sight of a leg being hacked off someone was a repulsive spectacle. It was unfortunate that it had come to that, she reflected as she walked to the camp, that brother should have been pitted against brother in a race which could have only ended in a humiliating defeat for one of them. Messala would never walk again, the doctor even had doubts that he would have the strength of will to live till dawn. Even if he survived the race, in many ways a life had been lost. The fate of Messala so occupied her mind that Esther nearly missed the sight of Judah sitting at the entrance of their tent. He'd evidently meant to keep watch, and fallen asleep at his post.  


"Wake up love," she kneeled before him, "it is cold to be out of the tent so late."  


Judah startled awake, sleepily observing the visage of his wife. "I'm sorry we argued," he mumbled "I was worried about you going with the Romans." He did not argue as Esther guided him into the tent, remaining silent until they were both comfortably arranged under the furs and linens which made up their covers. "Are you alright?".  


"They didn't bother me."  


"Good."  


There was a long pause.  


"And Messala?"  


"He survived the surgery, whether he lives through the night is in God's hands now."  


Judah rested his head on Esther's shoulder. They remained like that for a while and then:  


"I don't know if I wanted this or not."  


"Dwelling on it now won't help matters."  


And with that, Esther fell asleep.  


After many hours, so did Judah.  
\--------

It was almost a week before the rain came. And a day after that before Naomi and Tirza were brought to the camp. Both were tired and sore, but thrilled to be reunited with the rest of their family. The mood may have been sombre, but it was content nonetheless. The night after the Ben-Hur family was reunited, Ilderim took Judah aside as the others finished dinner.  


"I am wary of staying in the one place so long," he said, "Pilate may have promised your freedom-"  


"But you don't live long if you trust everybody's promises. I know." The young prince looked back at his family.  


"To stay would be unwise."  


"But are they strong enough to travel?"  


Ilderim snorted and Judah looked at the old man in confusion. "They survived for five years of uncertainty, pain, and struggle. An easy pace on the back of a wagon or in a caravan won't overwhelm them."  


"Where do we go then?"  


"My family and I will go to Persia," Ilderim intoned, "for all their might the Romans have not yet succeeded in conquering the Parthians."  


"And my family?" Judah looked down, reluctant to hear the answer to his question.  


"As I said, my family and I go to Persia," Ilderim smiled at the young racer, "unless of course, you prefer to stay."  


Judah smiled at this, he nodded and looked at the man who had raised him from nothing, who had saved him from despair in the darkest period of his life. "Far be it for me to split a family. When do we leave?"  


"The sooner the better, if we start to pack tomorrow, we can leave at first light the next day."  


"Thank you."  


Judah looked back to the tent and caught his mother's eye. "Excuse me, Ilderim."  


Judah entered the tent and crouched down in front of his mother. "I have hardly had a chance to see you since we came here," She smiled and raised a hand to one of his cheeks, "you have... changed, so much."  


"I'm still the same where it matters."  


"Stronger in every aspect."  


Judah smiled and leaned forward slightly. He looked to Naomi's left, where Tirza had fallen asleep. He started as a hand fell on his shoulder and looked back to see Esther, a smile on her face as she observed him.  


All was well for the house of Ben-Hur.  
\-------

Messala was in agony. His leg had been taken from him, and though they had given him a draught of poppies for the pain, he could still feel the throbbing sensation that originated from the stump that remained. Esther had stayed for the operation but had left after, when he had fallen unconscious after they had gotten to the bone of his leg. He could not blame her, even in his fevered state he could see that there was unrest in the city since the arrest of the Rabbi, it was much safer to stay on the outskirts, where violence was less likely. He only wished that someone could have stayed with him, the pain was all consuming.  


Messala was alone. The guards had moved him from the circus to his former headquarters the morning after the operation, and he'd been left alone since. His screaming had been disconcerting, and the Romans lacked the gentleness required to calm him down when the pain escalated the troubled thought processes of hos mind into sheer panic. They had given him his cloak to act as a blanket, and then they'd left him to fend for himself. Aside from the occasional soldier sent to fetch something from his former office, he had no company. He'd given up screaming after the first day, it hurt his throat and there was no-one to hear him, or care about his plight.  


Messala was waiting for the end. Despite all expectations (despite all hope, he thought), he had lived through the night after the disastrous end to the race. While that may have been commendable, it did not erase the fact that he could no longer fight, and that his tenure as a tribune was essentially at its end. There would be no use for him in the army, and what remained of his family hated him. A life as a crippled beggar in the streets, whose only claim to a name was as the man defeated and destroyed in the circus by his own brother, was not appealing. He had seen what happened everyday to people who had no roof but the sky and no blanket but the clothes on their backs. He could not let that happen to him.  


After the doctor had left, Marcus, the man who had ruined his life, had come to see him. The conversation had been brief, and had ended with his former commander handing him his gladius, with the implication that he should use it to end his suffering. It was not the first time that he had seen such a fate subtly suggested to a roman soldier considered damaged beyond repair, in fact he had seen many men offered this more honourable fate than going back in disgrace to be a burden to their families. The men usually tossed and turned over what they should do, often taking hours to agree to what their commanders had already decided. Eventually, they all died, and were forgotten, for the roman war machine had no time or love for fallen soldiers.  


Time passed in a haze, simultaneously dragging a second out into an hour, and going past in a blur. The gladius weighed heavy in his hands, aggravating the wounds underneath the dressings. It was light now, and Messala couldn't conceive of going through another day of this strange existence.  


But then, dressed in the clothes of a traveler, there was Judah.  


Messala needed him to go. He had already come so close to being killed by his own brother earlier in the week. Much as he believed he deserved that fate, to be hated by the only remaining member of his family, Messala could not bear the thought of seeing that hatred in Judah's eyes. So he spat out threats, twisted promises, guarantees of his continued hatred, all to scare his brother off. And yet, Judah approached unafraid by his broken appearance or his hideous words. He placated, tried to heal old wounds, reached out for Messala. Even when the former tribune raised his blade, unsure of whether to use it to ward away his brother or to end his pain, Judah held out his arms and embraced him.  


Messala was still in agony, still unsure of his place in the world, but it would have been a lie to say that he was alone.  
\--------

Judah did not remember much of what had happened after he had fallen from his horse, so very long ago. But he did remember the sensation of being carried. It was only fitting that he should carry his brother now that he was the root cause of someone being thrown from their horse (or chariot, who was he to nitpick?). Messala, disbelieving of his sudden change in circumstances, had passed out shortly after the two were reconciled, leaving Judah only this method of transportation. Even without the weight of his leg, Messala was far too light to be healthy, which worried Judah. Was he to lose his brother just as he got him back?  


Esther was waiting for him at the edge of the camp when he returned.  


"We're nearly ready to go," she remarked as he approached. "Ilderim says we can leave as soon as the tents are packed tomorrow."  


Judah nodded and proceeded to the main tent where most of the camp was relaxing now that the hard work of the day had been done. Ilderim looked up as Judah laid Messala down on one of the couches, guiding his brother's head to a soft cushion.  


"Is he alright?"  


Judah shrugged, he stood up and rolled his shoulders, "I didn't get a chance to talk to a doctor on the way out."  


Ilderim nodded and gestured for Kadim to come closer, "Find a doctor, not a roman." Kadim nodded and ran off to do as he was bid.  


It was at this point that Naomi and Tirza entered the tent. On seeing Messala, Naomi rushed towards him. "Messala?" she whispered, reaching out to stroke his face, "Messala is that you?"  


Messala began to stir at this. He opened his undamaged eye and looked at his mother with a soft smile. "Mum?" he asked, the smile disappearing as he saw that it was her, "have I died already?" Naomi tried to hush him but he continued, "I saw Judah, you would be so proud of him, of how he's grown."  


Naomi moved his hair out of his face and smiled, "I am, I'm so proud." She looked up at her other children as she rested a hand on Messala's forehead. Her smile melted away, "He has a fever!" she exclaimed.  


Messala reached up to hold her arm with one hand. "Mum, where are we?" before Naomi had a chance to respond he continued, "because I should not go where you go, you haven't done anything wrong, and we have different Gods anyway, so we shouldn't be in the same place, and is Tirza with you? Because even death should respect the importance of family, and she should be with you, and-"  


At this Judah intervened. "You aren't dead, brother mine." He took his brother's hand in his and smiled, "We're all here, together, not in the afterlife." Messala seemed ready to argue this, but before he could, the doctor arrived, and everyone was shooed away from him. He did not mind though, even if he didn't fully believe that they were all alive, at least they were together.  


They left the city the next day, an hour after first light. Messala was allowed to ride a horse, but only for a few hours a day, after which he was to sit in one of the wagons with his mother and Tirza. Judah and Esther rode side by side as the party left the shadow of the city that they had both grown up in. They looked forward to leaving the danger of the Roman Empire and heading towards a future in Persia. Judah looked at his wife, on her horse, and then back at his family, sitting in a wagon. For the first time in 8 years, he thought, all was perfect in the house of Ben-Hur.


End file.
